


Thirst.

by wonwhale (ranithepirate)



Series: SVT Vampire AU [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, Crime Scenes, Drama, Ex-Cop Wonwoo, Fluff, I'll add more tags as i go, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Smut, Suspense, Vampire Mingyu, hi carats i'm new, my version of vampires are pretty different tbh, other groups might show up in this as background characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranithepirate/pseuds/wonwhale
Summary: Wonwoo is an ex-cop with a resting bitch face and an affinity for the color black that’s gotten him into difficult situations in the past, but it’s the first time he’s been mistaken for a vampire.





	1. Preface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fair warning, the summary is lot more lighthearted than this fic actually is. Originally it was titled 6:13 AM because that’s when I realized I stayed up all night writing and planning this. This won't be very long (maybe like 20k? 30k, at most), so I’m just gonna post as I go. [This is what they look like in the fic.](https://wonwhale.tumblr.com/post/169683479378)
> 
> Also I didn’t plan on writing for Seventeen, and yet, here we are. I just really needed to write Mingyu as a vampire or else I’d spontaneously combust. So yeah. Hi carats! I hope my deep love for Wonwoo shines through, lol.

Wonwoo’s ears ring, louder and louder with every second that passes. It hurts so much that he screams, but he can’t hear himself, can’t see anything but the black and grey smoke clouding his vision and the floor underneath his feet. His eyes take everything in triples, traveling in circles and making him nauseas as he tries not to fall over. Swallowing back the bile building in his throat, he removes his shaking hands from where they cover his ears so that he can try to refocus his vision on them. His hands are streaked with red, and the sight of the crimson color staining his fingers makes him gag, panic settling in his bones as he tries to figure out what just happened, what is going on, where the hell he is.

He thinks he passes out because the next time he opens his eyes, he’s on his back, the world now in quadruples as it rushes by. There is someone who looks like a doctor—two, three, four doctors, but they all look the same, copy, paste—leaning over him, speaking at him inaudibly, asking questions he can’t hear, can’t make out because of the damned ringing. Everything is moving so fast. Wonwoo’s ears still hurt, throbbing, piercing, burning.

His words come out as gurgles, before his eyes roll back and he loses consciousness once again. He thinks he hears a flat line in the distance, a familiar sound from movies and TV, but he’s probably hallucinating because Wonwoo can’t hear anything, not even his own thoughts. Is he even breathing anymore? Maybe.

He wakes a third time, and the first person he sees is his mother, leaning over him. The ringing in his ears are gone, thankfully. He thinks he smiles, but he can’t be sure. His muscles are sore and his body hurts all over. Offhandedly, Wonwoo wonders what she’s doing in Seoul; she always complains about the hour-long bus ride, constantly pestering him to drive over and see her instead because coming to visit him is so much more of a hassle. When he tries to ask about it, she notices he’s awake and starts crying. She speaks to him, lips moving, and he feels so dizzy, so sick in his stomach.

Wonwoo still can’t hear, and confused, he tries to move his body and ask _what’s wrong_ , _why are you crying_ , but he can’t do that either, limbs so heavy that they may as well be made of led. They hold him down, make him feel like he’s sinking deeper and deeper, his ribs suddenly too tight and constricting his lungs. She’s still speaking, but Wonwoo’s vision is swimming again before he can try and decode. He blinks tightly to steady himself, closing his eyes and squeezing them hard. He counts to ten, trying to steady himself, but when he reopens his eyes, it’s night, and she’s gone.

The ringing in his ears is back, a horribly tinny noise that makes his empty stomach roll and heave with nausea. He hears something for once, a heart monitor, but it’s so far away that it feels strange to hear it at all. Even in the darkness he realizes that he’s in a hospital, the white walls and ceiling, the smell of antiseptic, the silence, everything. He takes a few minutes to process this information, swallowing as he clenches his eyes closed again and attempts to focus, to remember, but the heart monitor is so damn loud now, distracting, hurting. _God_ , why is it so loud?

The beeping angers him, makes him writhe in confusion. An alarm goes off overhead, and it hurts even more, the shrill sound like a police siren. Wonwoo’s arms flail, trying to make sense of the situation, and he knocks something over. The piercing clatter of something metal meeting with the tile floor, glass shattering into a million pieces, send a jolting sensation throughout his body. The sound is horribly familiar, his eyes shooting open as he screams, memories flooding in flashes that make him bead with cold sweat, heart pumping blood so hard that his head pulses along with every racing beat.

An explosion. Shrieking. Blood. Fire.

He remembers, now. Although he desperately wishes he didn’t.


	2. Last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for how many times you're gonna read about Mingyu's canines. And his smirk. In my defense, his smirk is very pretty.

It’s one of those rare late nights where Soonyoung somehow manages to drag Wonwoo out of his cave-like apartment and away from his books and computer long enough to visit a club. The reedy, black-clad male was promptly abandoned the second his more enthusiastic companion spotted the dancefloor, disappearing into the throng of swarming bodies and making himself scarce like he normally does. Soonyoung’s interest belies solely on dancing the night away, with or without his grouchy plus-one. As Wonwoo’s best friend, and, arguably, Wonwoo’s _only_ real friend, Soonyoung has his methods of facilitating the younger man’s monthly dose of human interaction, even if it’s not always in the best of ways. Soonyoung has Wonwoo’s best interest at heart, even if it doesn’t always seem like it; god knows Wonwoo has been shit at taking care of himself lately.

It’s been long enough since Wonwoo’s last outing that he’s out of sorts after being so suddenly—and forcibly, if he may add—thrust into a very public and very social environment. His default glower is enough to deter even the most voracious of potentially interested parties, and he weasels his way into safe corner by the bar, as far away from everyone else as possible, all to avoid conversation. It’s pathetic but it’s what he’s comfortable with, and it’s not like he’s back in school, when all he cared about was if others found his behavior strange.

The music is pounding but Wonwoo’s hearing is not what it used to be, especially in his right ear, and there are people everywhere in various states of inebriation; it’s practically Wonwoo’s biggest nightmare, and he sticks to the bar like a lifeline as he nurses the first beer of what was bound to be a long night of drinking alone and hoping Soonyoung doesn’t actually plan to dance until the club closes. He doesn’t care about being alone, but he definitely doesn’t want to invite conversation from curious, well-meaning partygoers who take notice of him hanging around by himself. Wonwoo’s introversion only worsened over the years after formally retiring from police force, when he took up whatever odd IT jobs he came across on the internet that fall within the scope of his ability, as well as trivial private detective work that consisted mostly of researching and snooping online and in libraries.

In all honestly, Wonwoo spends so much time inside in front of the computer that he fears that he’s starting to look more like a ghost than a human, his skin so pale that he wears jackets even during the summer to protect himself from sunburn, and he hides his dark circles behind round, high-prescription glasses. He’s way too bony because he doesn’t eat regularly and he slouches because feeling bigger than the people around him makes Wonwoo more awkward and clumsy than he already is naturally, so he’s practically a walking nightmare even by his own standard. Soonyoung, ever-positive and encouraging, says that the half-dead, intimidating look is part of Wonwoo’s charm, that it makes him look nerd-goth—whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean—but Wonwoo would beg to differ; he believed that attractive people were attractive because they were approachable, and he just didn’t make the cut.

While lost in thought, Wonwoo doesn’t immediately take notice of someone strolling over to stand next to him. Instead, his eyes stare blankly out into the pit of bodies in a shoddy attempt to spot his best friend, knowing with increasing dread that no doubt he’ll have to fish Soonyoung out of there at some point, even if only to tell him that he’s going home first. He startles when a throat clears to get his attention from somewhere close to his ear, Wonwoo’s fingers tightening around his beer mug as he jerks his head to finally take notice of the sudden appearance. An incredibly tall—taller than Wonwoo!—and incredibly attractive man is smirking down at him, showing off unusually sharp canines that glint unsettlingly in the low lighting.

Wonwoo feels like his breath just got knocked out of his lungs, gulping at the sight of mister tall, dark, and handsome. Wonwoo would kill to look like him. The guy is wearing a similar outfit to his, a leather jacket and jeans, but he snugly fills out his clothes with muscle in a way that makes Wonwoo feel lacking. He’d work out too, if he cared enough, but he hasn’t done any of that since leaving the force.

When he remains at a loss for words, mouth gone cotton-dry, the stranger’s smirk intensifies, clearly waiting to be addressed as he stares pointedly back at the shorter man. “Uhm. Y-Yes?” Wonwoo finally squeaks out, unsure why someone so beautiful is taking his time out to talk to Wonwoo, who so clearly does not fit in with the kind of crowd that shows up here on a typical Friday night. This guy could just as easily be chatting up any other person at the club, someone more flirty and confident and attractive. Surely Wonwoo couldn’t be more interesting than someone who actually wanted to be here; he’s been told he has a resting bitch face that could sour anyone’s mood, and he’s not about to disagree when he’s caught himself unintentionally glaring in the background of photos before.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the stranger asks, although his question sounds more like a rhetorical one. Before Wonwoo can think of a response, any response really—like yeah, I actually live near here, or no, I don’t frequent the “outside” very often—the stranger continues talking anyway, looking out into the crowd while still addressing him. “This part of the city belongs to Seungcheol. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, although you look lost so you probably didn’t even know that there was a coven here in the first place. It’s good you ran into me patrolling the area and not someone else, or else it could have been bad.” He says that last part with a chuckle, taking another sip of his fruity-looking drink.

This stranger is talking so matter-of-factly about things that Wonwoo simply does not comprehend, half of the words going over his head as he gapes up at the handsome man, that Wonwoo doesn’t even process half of what he’s saying. Did Wonwoo mention how pretty this guy is? “Uh, what do you mean? What c-coven?” Wonwoo wonders in confusion, thinking that maybe the beer he was drinking might have been spiked because their unforeseen conversation has him incredibly lost.

The stranger laughs sympathetically, nodding with understanding in a way that has Wonwoo screaming internally. “Well, you know the house rules. No outsiders allowed, yada-yada. I never really got all that coven territory bullshit they feed us at initiation, you know? All’s fair in love and war, I always say, so long as no one gets hurt,” the tall man continues, still gulping down his deep red drink, staining his lips every time he takes a sip between sentences before licking it off with his tongue. It’s incredibly distracting; Wonwoo doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, his dry tongue sticking to the roof of his as he continues to ogle the man in front of him.

The stranger, apparently undeterred by Wonwoo’s incessant staring, seems to realize something as he looks away from the crowd to grin down at Wonwoo. “Oh, where are my manners. I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.” His eyes sparkle with amusement when he speaks, like he’s in on some kind of amazing joke, and Wonwoo notices for the first time that they are an unusually bright, golden-honey color that send a shiver of… _something_ down his spine. Maybe Wonwoo has been out of the loop for so long that he’s forgotten how people converse outside of the internet. Or, if he tries to make sense of their conversation, maybe Mingyu was a bouncer? This place could be some sort of exclusive club that he accidentally got into with Soonyoung, and they, like, needed a membership or something and need to leave?

It takes Wonwoo another second to realize that the handsome stranger is holding his hand out, presumably for Wonwoo to shake, still waiting on his introduction as well. Oh, right. Manners. Still a thing. “Jeon… Wonwoo…?” he replies unsteadily, hesitant as he accepts the proffered hand, even though he still doesn’t have the slightest clue about what the other man is rambling on about despite trying desperately hard to. He could also just be drunk. Mingyu could be drunk, too, but that seems unlikely.

“Wonwoo,” Mingyu repeats, smirking that goddamn attractive smirk of his again. Shit. How is Wonwoo supposed to think when a face like that is looking at him? “That’s a nice name. What’s it mean?” Mingyu licks his extremely pink lips when he asks this, his canines shining again, and Wonwoo’s betraying eyes follow the movement before snapping up in embarrassment, feeling his entire face heat up when he realizes he’s been caught. Mingyu’s bright gold eyes seem to laugh at him still, twinkling like he had a punchline up his sleeve; in fact, his whole body seems to laugh at Wonwoo, right down to the way he holds his now half-empty drink in his hand.

Oh, wait. Hand. His other hand is still holding onto Wonwoo’s, frozen in mid-shake because he never pulled away. Shit. That’s weird. Wonwoo withdraws his clammy, shaky hand away from the taller man’s grasp as quickly as possible, stuffing it into his pocket—missing at least twice, embarrassing himself yet again, but what’s new—and trying not to think of how much thicker Mingyu’s calloused fingers were compared to Wonwoo’s longer, bony ones. He downs the rest of his beer to ground himself back to reality before realizing a little too late that more alcohol is never the answer. Good lord.

“Uh, my name means to help with a rounded heart. Or… something.” Wonwoo bites his lip after the last part slips out, berating himself for speaking too much. This is exactly why he hates conversation, even more so if the other party is handsome.

“Or something?” Mingyu repeats, looking amused. He stares at Wonwoo curiously, like he can’t seem to place him, eyes still laughing annoyingly, and Wonwoo lowers his gaze before the taller man can stare at him for too long. Something about Mingyu’s eyes makes Wonwoo feel like they’ll look right through him, like maybe they already are.

“Or something,” Wonwoo agrees with a nod, his grip tightening around the glass. God, why is he so inept?

Before anything else can be said, another, newer male voice interrupts their weird conversation as suddenly as it had begun. “Mingyu, Cheolie’s calling for a gathering. We need to bounce so we’re not the last to arrive. You know how he is.” Wonwoo’s head shoots up again to find that the voice belongs to an even prettier man with long, black hair down to just past his shoulders. He suddenly appeared just like Mingyu had, almost as if out of thin air, his arm looped around the taller man’s in a familiar manner that catches Wonwoo off-guard. The newcomer gives Wonwoo a cautionary look, sizing him up for a beat, before his lip curls in distaste. “Leave this one be for now. Looks like he had his fill before showing up here, anyway. Unless… he’s not a problem, is he?”

Mingyu immediately shakes his head at the newer stranger in answer, setting his now empty glass on the counter, nothing but ice left of the fruity red drink. “Nah, it’s all cool here, hyung. Wonwoo and I were just getting to know each other. We should get going before hyungnim gets upset.” Mingyu makes to follow the lead of the shorter man before pausing for a moment, turning back around to suddenly look at Wonwoo again. Wonwoo hates how much it startles him, his breath catching as their gazes meet once more. “Hey. stay out of trouble,” Mingyu says unexpectedly, looking at Wonwoo with a pointed expression that melts into another one of those infuriating smirks of his. “I’ll be seeing you again… right?”

Still stunned by this strange series of events, Wonwoo can only find it in himself to nod dumbly, staring back like the loser he’s realizing he truly might be; whatever false hopes he had before have been doused with cold water. “Uhm…? Yeah?” The tall man laughs at the slow response, looking entirely too self-satisfied before nodding happily to himself. Wonwoo blinks only to realize that the two strangers are now gone, and, suddenly alone again, he’s thrust back into the reality of thumping bass and gyrating bodies everywhere.

Stay out of trouble? That’s the first time Wonwoo’s been told something like that before. He stares down into his empty beer mug, trying to figure out if he can see if whether he got drugged or not, before turning around to face the bar and order something stronger. Anything, to get Mingyu’s maddeningly attractive smirks out of his brain. Wonwoo is the posterchild for bisexuality, even if he was in the closet for most of his life, and he’s seen enough to know that unfairly hot guys like Mingyu are usually _very_ straight but tend to come off as just the opposite, to the dismay of the gay community.

And anyway, he couldn’t have been flirting with Wonwoo. Wonwoo barely looked like he had his life together on a good day, let alone a day like this, where he was so out of his element that Soonyoung had even laughed at him when he dragged Wonwoo’s ass out of bed earlier this afternoon before stripping him and shoving him into the shower. Wonwoo didn’t sleep enough, didn’t eat enough, didn’t do anything enough except distract himself from reality. Playing videogames were fun, and so was reading, but these days he hardly finds enjoyment in even things he likes to do. He was a twenty-eight-year-old retiree flirting with depression, still not quite comfortable in his own skin after an unfortunate incident from three years ago, and it showed.

 _Well, you didn’t look that bad_ , a little familiar voice in the back of his head supplies, a distant memento of a Wonwoo who used to be incredibly confident in himself, one that hasn’t appeared in long while. The voice grows more assertive as he slowly loses his sanity to alcohol at the bar. _You know you look good in glasses. Mingyu probably thought you were attractive. Maybe even… ruggedly handsome._ Wonwoo giggled at the thought, recalling his stuttering and staring.

Yeah, rugged his bony ass.

 

 

Wonwoo wakes up around six in the morning to a throbbing headache and Soonyoung’s incredibly gross morning wood poking at his lower back through his clothes. Wonwoo immediately knew what it was upon waking up because this was not the first time he’s woken up in a situation like this, especially with a best friend like Soonyoung that he grew up with since they were still crapping their diapers. When your moms have been best friends since high school like theirs, you automatically become best friends from birth. It was just, like, a fact of life. Their mothers even planned that they be born at the same time, except that Soonyoung came a month early. Still, a month apart is barely anything, and so they grew up attached at the hip like real siblings whether they wanted to or not, even if they couldn’t be more different.

Because of this, Soonyoung sleeping over was nothing new; it only happened on nights he was sober enough to remember that he brought Wonwoo along with him to the club, but too drunk and exhausted from dancing to get his ass back home when Wonwoo’s apartment was closest to the heart of the city—and, therefore, closer to everything else by default. Wonwoo unsticks the overgrown koala he calls his friend from his back, practically shoving the older man over until Soonyoung was teetering dangerously close to the edge of the bed, his teeth grinding as he continued to sleep, dead to the world. Wonwoo gives Soonyoung a distasteful glare, his lip curling at the disheveled state of his best friend. At least he didn’t vomit all over Wonwoo’s bed. This time, anyway.

After blindly grabbing for his glasses from the side table where he always places them, sober or otherwise, the taller man stumbles into his bathroom, squinting from the daylight pouring through the bathroom window. Through his unbearable headache he wonders what time it is before leaning over the sink to scowl at himself through the mirror, thankful that most of his day-to-day human interactions happen over the computer because if he didn’t look like shit before, he most definitely looked like it now. With a long, heaving sigh, he begins his typical morning bathroom routine, brushing the gross taste of last night’s mistakes off his teeth and hopping into the shower to properly wake himself up with a refreshing wash.

By the time he clambers back into his room, wincing at the cold tile underfoot, he discovers that Soonyoung has unsurprisingly fallen out of bed, and quite inelegantly so, face-first onto the floor and still passed out with his pink boxer-clad ass high in the air. Wonwoo snorts as he snaps a couple pictures from varying angles to save as blackmail material for later use, before finally heading to his closet. For someone who never put much thought into appearances, he always owned a lot of clothes. They ranged from dark colors to different shades of black, most of which were of the baggy sweater type for everyday wear, and then a good variation of leather jackets and t-shirts for outings much like last night. Once upon a time Wonwoo’s closet had been more colorful, but over the past three years all his troubles bled into his wardrobe. He wonders if he’ll ever get the old Wonwoo back, the one that looked forward to tomorrow instead of dreading it. Soonyoung is convinced he’ll overcome it one day; Wonwoo secretly knows he probably can’t.

For some reason, he suddenly thinks of the handsome stranger from last night, the one who talked a lot but had a pretty smile distracting enough that Wonwoo couldn’t recall too much of what was coming out of it anyway. Ming-something? He also remembers something about a coven. Or was it a clan? Wonwoo isn’t so sure anymore, not after all the drinks he had. He does, however, remember sharp canines, honey-gold eyes, tanned skin, and an agreement to meet again. Too bad Wonwoo doesn’t plan to go back to that club again for like, another year or something. Either way, the guy left a blip the size of the sun on Wonwoo’s suspicious radar, so it’s probably for the better that they never cross paths again. Even if the guy was unbearably hot.

Predictably, Soonyoung rouses at the first scent of food when Wonwoo attempts to cook in the pathetic little kitchenette in his apartment. Normally he wouldn’t touch the stove with an eight-foot pole since he honestly can’t cook to save his life, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and his hangover-induced sudden craving for a grilled cheese sandwich would not leave him to wallow in peace. He hands over his first slightly burnt attempt to Soonyoung, who inhales the food without even registering the blackened bits. Wonwoo’s second attempt burns worse, but Soonyoung inhales it again, still mostly unconscious as he tends to be any time before the afternoon. Fourth time’s the charm, the third one already in Soonyoung’s bottomless belly before the older man curls up on Wonwoo’s couch and promptly passes out again.

Wonwoo nibbles on the corner of the sandwich as he finally checks his phone for e-mails, looking over feedback on his pending jobs, as well as to check for any new requests from local police agencies that could use his research expertise. Soonyoung says that the fact that Wonwoo takes these requests from the police as well as other clients shows that he’s ready to confront his past, but honestly Wonwoo doesn’t feel any closer to being over it than he was three years ago. Interestingly, Wonwoo’s alleged hermit-like career that he created for himself is dictated by interacting with people, even if he’s only talking through a screen. He finds it ironic that he can be so antisocial and yet still easily chitchat online rather than those he knows in person. In fact, Wonwoo can connect every single friend he has to Soonyoung, and even then, they were more Soonyoung’s friends than Wonwoo’s.

The thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth, especially when he recalls the words of one of his more bitter ex-girlfriends. _‘It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t actually want to be loved. You only think about protecting yourself.’_ Wonwoo chews on his lip, lost in thought as his stomach roils uncomfortably, before forcing himself to focus again. He offhandedly replies to some e-mails before promptly shutting his phone and staring down at his, truthfully, very pathetic grilled cheese sandwich. It no longer looks appetizing, and with his hunger suddenly abated, he instead decides to down one of the hangover recovery drinks he keeps handy in his fridge. Leaving his sandwich on the table for Soonyoung to inevitably devour later, he hunkers down into his little office in the apartment with his extensive computer setup, surrounded by haphazardly organized bookshelves stacked to the ceiling with reference materials, and getting back to work as usual.

A couple hours later, there’s a single knock on his office door. Wonwoo takes a quick break from looking into an old casefile that was requested by a former colleague to allow inside the only person in his apartment other than himself. “Finally alive?” Wonwoo asks his friend, unsurprised to see Soonyoung at the door still bumming at his place, but finally looking cleaned up and somewhat put-together despite rocking last night’s outfit again. Soonyoung is chewing on the last of what is now left of Wonwoo’s abandoned grilled cheese, the one he didn’t plan on eating anyway, nodding in answer.

“I could say the same to you, big guy,” he replies pointedly despite having his mouth full, raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t eaten, have you? It’s nearly two. Plus, I’m pretty sure you drank on an empty stomach last night too, because apparently, you have no stomach.”

“I did eat!” Wonwoo protests, albeit weakly. Honestly, he doesn’t remember the last time he ate something, and judging by Soonyoung’s expression, the shorter man has already figured that bit out for himself. Soonyoung can be rather sharp when it counts, and Wonwoo rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, allowing his best friend to drag him outside again by his wrist. It’s moments like these where Soonyoung feels more like his babysitter than anything else, and it makes Wonwoo feel incredibly guilty. When Wonwoo moved out of his parents’ place several years ago after graduating from the Korean police academy, Soonyoung promised his mother that he would make sure Wonwoo took care of himself. It was said only jokingly back then, but who knew that a little over three years ago, it would come true—and more out of necessity than choice.

All in all, Soonyoung does a decent job despite being just as inept at basic household chores as he is, but at least Wonwoo is still alive. No thanks to Wonwoo, though; Soonyoung seems to be the only one who tries between the two of them. They’ve already spent a lot of time fighting over this very situation, but these past few months, Wonwoo has become too resigned to even bother fighting back anymore. He thinks that he might be sick of his own behavior, too. Soonyoung is more than willing to take over for Wonwoo’s lack of interest in anything, but even the guilt of impeding on his friend’s life isn’t enough to get his ass back into gear.

Wonwoo doesn’t get why he’s given up on himself either, but he’ll let himself get dragged around if it means giving Soonyoung some peace of mind before leaving Wonwoo to his own devices; there’s only so much he can do when he has a life and obligations of his own. Running a dance studio full of classes with people of all ages takes a lot of time and effort, so these moments together are hard to come by. Even still, the weekly visits are more than Wonwoo feels like he deserves.

“Thanks,” he says, when they’re stuffing their faces with convenience store ramen, afternoon sun burning them through the window despite the cold weather outside. “You know I love you a lot, right?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Soonyoung grumbles between slurps, pissed as he shoves Wonwoo’s shoulder away. “If you really loved me like you say you do, you’d eat three meals a day without me having to remind you every damn day.” His words have a bite to them, but he’s got his leg hooked with Wonwoo’s under the table.

He knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real bros say I love you to each other.
> 
> I'm still new to the fandom, so I'm sorry if I'm butchering the boys' personalities to fit the story. I hope you can enjoy what's to come anyway because boy do I have _plans._


	3. Second chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes or inconsistencies, I wrote this out of order!

Wonwoo was only twenty-five when he retired from the police force.

Originally, even after the bombing incident, he hadn’t planned on leaving. After all, he still had his badge and qualifications; on paper, all he’d lost was his hearing due to ruptured eardrums from his proximity to the bomb at the time of detonation. Even then, he was in the process of recovery—though it would never be a full one. Technically he didn’t _need_ to hear to be an intelligence analyst, especially with the amount of speed, comprehension, and skill he had when it came to acquiring information through reference material, both online and in paper. Wonwoo was incredibly prodigious when it came to mentally retaining data and records he’d seen and studied before, and even faster with finding loopholes in computer tech and assisting in cracking cases with even the inanest of trace evidences.

All in all, Wonwoo was an invaluable commodity to the head of the Seoul Crime Lab… except brains and talent couldn’t make up for psychological trauma. Shortly after being discharged from the hospital, Wonwoo was diagnosed with severe PTSD, which made it impossible for him to even look at the lab without experiencing actual physical and mental shock, let alone step foot inside. At first it was difficult for him to even pass by the precinct, and any loud noises that he could catch despite his hearing loss were a surefire way to make him faint or have an attack.

Medications and therapy largely helped him get through the first several long months, which he spent most of locked up inside of his apartment, glued to the computer as he did various tech jobs that could be fulfilled online with his family and Soonyoung as his only acceptable company. By the end of the year, Wonwoo’s ears had healed significantly and he could finally stand loud music and traffic noise again. He still couldn’t go near his previous job, which was to be expected, and although the nightmares he had were fewer, they were still horrifying.

It didn’t take long into the second year for Wonwoo to grow restless however, opening his personal private detective page on craigslist, where all transactions were done online. His training and knowledge in criminal cases wouldn’t allow him to sit idle, although he did start off a bit shaky and wary of everything. There was a very real fear itching in the back of his mind at the idea that trouble could somehow find him yet again. It was his inquisitive behavior and dogged desperation to get to the bottom of things, even they seemed dangerous, that got him to this point in life in the first place—cowering alone in his apartment, day in and day out, struggling to trust others.

Another year went by and Wonwoo finally started to show proper improvement, allowing Soonyoung to take the wheel more to force him out of his comfort zone so that he could get his life back on track. It felt like more of a chore on even the better days, but Wonwoo honestly needed Soonyoung’s forceful nature to pull him along otherwise he’d stay stagnant forever. Although now he could enter the precinct without too much anxiety, the lab section itself was still out of the question; it never failed to amuse him that despite retiring, the Seoul Crime Lab was always ready to welcome him back with open arms. The precinct allowed him to keep his police badge and access to the database, fully expecting his eventual return, even if he himself wasn’t quite ready for it.

Despite his slow yet sure recovery, Wonwoo remains doubtful of ever making a return to the lab; sixteen people lost their lives that day. Of all the employees present at the labs in the original east wing from the time of the bombing, Wonwoo was the sole surviving technician. It was a small miracle, really, due to the fact he had a tiny office to himself near the center of the main lab. He’d been protected by sturdy walls as well as the bookshelves and computers, whereas his coworkers had only glass windows dividing the different sections into separate labs. Wonwoo still has nightmares about stumbling through the smoke and rubble, trying to make sense of what had happened, only to find people he’d known and worked with for years lying dead everywhere he looked. He hated remembering it, his stomach threatening to hurl all its contents every time the memories came to his mind.

To think that it was probably his fault that the bomb had found its way into the labs made him feel even worse, the guilt eating away at him from the inside out. Even when people had told him he was just doing his job, Wonwoo still couldn’t come to terms with that reality. If doing his job had cost people their lives, he wasn’t sure he could do it anymore. If he even wanted to. If Wonwoo was going to risk anything, he’d rather just risk himself, and that’s why working alone was so much easier than returning to the lab. The less people he had to worry about, the better.

 

 

It’s a few weeks later that Wonwoo is out with Soonyoung on a Friday night again, although this time instead of club, they go to a bar. It’s quieter, and the music is good, the vibe fun and relaxing; neither of them are alcoholics but Wonwoo feels more comfortable out in public when he’s drunk, and Soonyoung likes to go to places where he can let loose. It helps that Soonyoung is good friends with the owner’s son, Lee Seokmin, a silly guy with smiling eyes and a sharp nose. He’s so nice that he’s always handing them free drinks and snacks, but Soonyoung insists on paying at least _something_ , so the prices are all ridiculously discounted—not that Wonwoo is complaining. He doesn’t exactly have a steady income, and so he smiles kindly every time Seokmin makes conversation with him, even if it is mostly one-sided. Luckily Wonwoo is a good listener who doesn’t mind being talked at.

Soonyoung and Wonwoo don’t normally go out every week that they meet up; it’s more typical for Soonyoung to just hang around at Wonwoo’s apartment, maybe go for a short walk around the neighborhood to grab takeout before holing back up inside and watching movies together all night. It’s that kind of understood companionship that Wonwoo values the most, but there was once a time that he didn’t mind the nightlife so long as things weren’t too hectic. In an effort to recover that lost self of his, Wonwoo will allow himself to get dragged out to places like this every once in a while, even if it’s with great reluctance.

They’re currently hanging out at the bar, Wonwoo’s location of choice no matter where they go. The place is pretty packed, even for a Friday. Wonwoo recalls Seokmin mentioning something about how it was 80s American Rock Night, which is a popular theme among regulars and people from outside the city to dress up and hang out while enjoying the live music. Because of this, Wonwoo fits right in with the scene tonight, since everyone is decked out in either black studded leather or wild colors and patterns. There’s a band performing on the low platform, jamming casually to keep a chill atmosphere, and the lights are dimmer than usual. Wonwoo notices a bit of a crowd at the long booth near the back, where some sort of celebration or gathering seems to be taking place. He isn’t averse to people watching, and as curiosity gets the best of him, it doesn’t take long for him to zone out of his conversation with Seokmin and Soonyoung to try and figure out what is going on.

For a good while, Wonwoo is convinced that it must be a get-together for models. All the people seated in the booth literally look like they just stepped off the runway, dressed in rock fashion like everyone else but looking a million times better doing it. They easily attract attention from others around them, pulling gazes like moths to a flame even if no one dares to approach. It takes Wonwoo another few minutes to realize that he actually recognizes one of them—it’s the beautiful guy with long hair that had appeared out of nowhere and whisked away the stranger chatting up Wonwoo at the club a couple weeks ago. The long-haired man is agreeing sincerely with something the person next to him is saying, another handsome man with dark, slicked back hair and a serious look in his eyes. The man doesn’t look very relaxed, shoulders tense and lips pursed with impatience.

It’s while he’s staring that Wonwoo unintentionally wonders if Ming-something was here as well, his heart betraying him as it starts beating faster for the sole reason that the guy was, like, _really_ hot. Like fate, in the exact moment that the band kicks into high-gear with in with some electric guitar riffs, Wonwoo’s eyes land on the one person he least expected to see tonight. It’s strange, how you can simply not know a person exists, and then suddenly see them everywhere you look—because, as Wonwoo is tilting whiskey into his mouth, his peripheral vision catches sight of the very tall, dark, and handsome stranger he’d just randomly thought about. Speak of the devil.

Wonwoo chokes embarrassingly into his drink, his abrupt coughing fit winning him concerned looks from Soonyoung and Seokmin, who’d been talking animatedly to each other while Wonwoo nodded absently along all this time.

_I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu._

He remembers the name just as abruptly as the memory of Mingyu’s toothy smile and gold eyes fill his brain, Wonwoo’s face growing uncomfortably hot as he quickly turns away and tries to unburn the incredibly attractive image of Mingyu walking over to the alleged model gathering in a partially open black studded vest and fitted red leather pants off his retinas. “Of course,” Wonwoo scoffs, still coughing from whiskey-induced pain and forgetting that he’s wearing his glasses when he tries to rub his face, hurting the bridge of his nose in the process. “Why 80s rock n’ roll, of all things?” Honestly it was just like a scene out of some cringy, cliché movie, and Mingyu was the main character.

“Well, my dad was in a rock band back in the day,” Seokmin supplies with worry furrowing his brow, attempting to pat Wonwoo’s back over the counter to help him stop coughing. It’s a busy night but Seokmin isn’t very good at remembering drink recipes, so he was behind the bar more as a source of entertainment than anything—although Wonwoo is starting to wonder why Seokmin hasn’t gone around to chat up other customers yet, instead choosing to stick with them instead. “Plus everyone likes dressing up. Isn’t that why you’re dressed up, too?”

“No, leather jackets are literally all he has in his closet,” Soonyoung responds for him while laughing at Seokmin’s innocent question, smacking Wonwoo’s back in a rougher attempt at helping ease his coughing fit than Seokmin’s had been. Soonyoung’s smile widens proudly, puffing out his chest as he stands to show off his outfit. “But _I_ dressed up on purpose because I actually remembered.”

“I can see that,” Seokmin agrees with a matching bright smile, and they look at each other in a manner that makes Wonwoo quickly realize that he might be third-wheeling. The two of them continue talking, which suits Wonwoo just fine as he looks over his shoulder to peek in the direction of the gathering again. Mingyu is still standing there looking incredibly gorgeous, his hair pushed back and tan skin glowing under the low bar lighting, highlighting his enviously toned body that makes Wonwoo want to curl up in jealousy. Mingyu is not standing alone though, another really tall guy with a shock of bright purple hair—who is also super pretty, which shouldn’t surprise Wonwoo at this point if the gathering truly is for models—is leaning into Mingyu, his arm slung over the taller man’s shoulders. They laugh loudly at whatever conversation is going on at the booth, enough that Wonwoo thinks he can almost hear it despite the noise.

In all honestly, Wonwoo hasn’t felt this curious about the lives of living people in a long time. His interest has always solely rested on the deceased, to find out what happened to them and bring criminals to justice once and for all. However, this strange group of attractive people is making Wonwoo wonder who exactly they could be, and not just because he thought Mingyu had a really pretty smile, even if it _is_ part of the reason, but also because Wonwoo lightly remembers bits and pieces of his strange conversation with Mingyu from before. Something about a man named Seungcheol having jurisdiction over the area; Wonwoo can only assume from the word “coven” that Mingyu used that it must a codename for something possibly gang-related. The observant detective side of him has a gut feeling that tells him that Seungcheol is the one with the slicked hair who still looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. He has an air of dominance to him, and when he appears to scold Mingyu and the purple-haired man for being late, it just about seals the deal.

“You’ve been staring awfully hard at Mingyu since he showed up,” Seokmin suddenly mentions, and at the name Wonwoo’s head snaps around to look at the bartender with wide, incredulous eyes; Soonyoung is nowhere in sight, and Wonwoo realizes that he must have gone to the bathroom, which is probably why Seokmin is speaking to him again. “Wait. Don’t tell me you choked on your drink because of him? I admit he’s attractive, but trust me, you’re better off not getting tangled up with them.”

“I only met him once at Club Diamond. You know him?” Wonwoo questions, still in shock, wondering how the sweet and naïve Seokmin could possibly be involved with a gang; sure, Wonwoo might be jumping the gun on that theory, but he’s not about to rule it out yet.

“Yeah, he’s part of Seungcheol’s crew. They’ve been regulars here for almost three years now, although they don’t usually come on the weekends so it’s weird that they’re here today. They always manage to draw attention to themselves wherever they go, which isn’t surprising if you consider their faces. In fact, I think all the guys are here tonight,” Seokmin supplies, looking thoughtful as he fixes his eyes on the group.

Wonwoo follows his gaze as Seokmin continues to speak, the bartender lifting his hand to point. “The guy with purple hair next to Mingyu is Jun. Seungcheol is the one on the far right of the booth with his hair gelled back, and to his left is Jeonghan. After Jeonghan is Joshua, then Chan, Jihoon, and Minghao, in that order.” He carefully points to each person going down the long booth, pausing for a moment to scan the rest of the bar when he comes up short. “There’s also Hansol and Seungkwan, but I guess they’re not here. Which is too bad because Seungkwan is the only normal one, and I’d rather speak to him than Seungcheol. They’re obviously here to discuss something with me later otherwise they’d never show up on such a busy night. I guess I’ll find out after closing…”

Wonwoo glances at Seokmin, who looks somewhat nervous, lost in thought as he stares at Seungcheol. “The only normal one? What do you mean by that?” Wonwoo asks, breaking through Seokmin’s focus.

“You’ve _met_ Mingyu, right? I won’t believe you if you say you didn’t find him even the least bit strange,” the bartender counters with a chuckle, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. _Touché_ , Wonwoo thinks back with a wry smile, nodding in agreement. He still wants to know about Seokmin’s relationship with the group, but he’s not sure he and Seokmin are close enough for him to ask about something like that in case it was a touchy subject.

“Then who are they?” Wonwoo probes instead, because the curiosity is killing him. “When Mingyu and I spoke last time, he said some strange things. They’re not… in a gang or anything, are they?”

Seokmin immediately breaks out into laughter at Wonwoo’s suggestion, as if the idea that the group is a gang was that ridiculous to him. “Have you ever seen a gang full of pretty boys before?” he retorts with a gigantic grin, smacking Wonwoo’s shoulder playfully, his reaction making Wonwoo feel embarrassed as he sheepishly looks down at his half-empty whiskey glass. Seokmin sobers just as suddenly though, laughter halting, and the abrupt seriousness in his voice catches Wonwoo off-guard. “But either way, I seriously suggest you keep away from all of them if you can help it. They’re not bad or anything, it’s just that… well, let’s just say that trouble always follows wherever they go.”

Wonwoo’s brows furrow in confusion, about a million more questions on his mind, however Soonyoung chooses that exact opportune moment to reappear. He rants loudly about a strange person doing flips in the bathroom, stealing Seokmin’s attention immediately, so Wonwoo closes his mouth and decides not to say anything instead. He isn’t willing to bring up this conversation with Soonyoung around anyway because he knows that Soonyoung will just tease him about Mingyu and say how he has a crush on him or something along those lines. If Soonyoung finds out that Mingyu approached him at the club and that he was also here again tonight, Wonwoo will honestly never hear the end of it.

Sighing heavily, he decides to just let the matter rest, going back to observing the group in case he manages to catch some sort of clue about them; really, he just tells that to himself so he won’t feel guilty about staring at Mingyu, content to just observe him from a distance than up-close, where Wonwoo would just get flustered and be unable to speak.

A while later, a group of girls find the courage to approach the booth, and a couple of them immediately latch onto Mingyu and Jun’s arms as everyone laughs at whatever joke Jun’s just said. Wonwoo’s eyes zero in on the one clinging to Mingyu, who’s not pushing her away but is instead smiling down kindly at her as they engage in conversation. Wonwoo tries not to feel bitter, but it does hurt his pride because he had honestly kept thinking about the handsome stranger from the club in the back of his mind all this time, thinking that maybe Mingyu might have wanted to get to know him more when he said that they’ll meet again. Or maybe Wonwoo just missed his opportunity by staying in place and watching from a distance instead of doing something about it, just like he always does; another missed opportunity to add to his ever-growing collection.

And just like that, Wonwoo’s interest in the group is suddenly gone, feeling strangely sour about the situation even though there isn’t any reason to feel that way when it’s probably partially his fault. Whatever little expectation Wonwoo felt from that day at the club has disappeared now, and honestly he doesn’t know what he was imagining would happen anyway. Still, even with sagging shoulders he can’t seem to look away, watching as Mingyu flirts back with a genuinely interested expression on his face, and Wonwoo can’t help but think it was all meant to be like this anyway.

For a while Wonwoo wonders why Mingyu has been persistently ogling the neckline of girl’s low-cut top, which wouldn’t be surprising considering how well-endowed she is, but for some reason she doesn’t seem to be showing any response—negative, positive, or otherwise. She just keeps shifting her hair around while she talks, and it takes another minute or so for Wonwoo to realize that Mingyu is staring at her _neck_ , not her boobs.

Baffled, Wonwoo absently reaches up to touch his own neck at the realization, completely bewildered at his discovery. Maybe Mingyu had some sort of neck fetish? How strange. Wonwoo looks away for a minute to finish off his whiskey before the ice melts any more than it already has. When he looks back, he’s startled to find that the girls and the group have since disappeared—all except for Mingyu, who’s still standing there, looking right back at Wonwoo.

The glass nearly slips from Wonwoo’s hands as his eyes widen in shock, and Mingyu smiles excitedly once he sees Wonwoo’s face and confirms that it really is him. He starts walking over immediately, and Wonwoo seriously feels like the world is ending or something because this was the last thing he was expecting. Panic makes his hands shake as he continues to dumbly watch Mingyu approach him, unsure what to do except stare back.

The closer Mingyu gets, the more Wonwoo notices that there is something very different about him since the last time they saw each other; Mingyu’s tan skin is looking comparatively more palled than before, eyes sharper and a much darker gold than Wonwoo remembers. It’s uncanny, and for some reason Mingyu looks so much more… dangerous. Maybe it’s the rock outfit, maybe it was the lighting, or maybe he was just sick—Wonwoo doesn’t get to find out any of it because Mingyu abruptly halts in his tracks before he even gets within fifteen feet of him. Mingyu looks towards the entrance of the bar like he’d heard something from there, Wonwoo following his eyes to see the purple-haired guy named Jun at the doors. Jun’s lips move, forming words that are clearly inaudible over all the noise, but Mingyu apparently hears him anyway. He nods in agreement to whatever Jun has said, and then he looks back at Wonwoo apologetically, saying something as well. Wonwoo obviously doesn’t hear it—it’s sometimes hard for him to hear even normal conversation on especially bad days—but his lip-reading skills do manage to catch the tail end of it before Mingyu turns around and disappears into the crowd.

 _I’ll see you again, Wonwoo_.

He tries not let his hopes get up again, he really does. It doesn’t make sense for him to feel anything for this strange person he doesn’t know, especially when everything about him seems to get stranger and stranger every time they meet. Even while knowing this, it’s difficult to keep the small smile from his face, even when Soonyoung starts teasing him about it. He’d seen the entire exchange with Mingyu, but that meant so did Seokmin; Wonwoo tries not to acknowledge the concern on the bartender’s face even though he knows it’s there, directed at him. Wonwoo isn’t interested in Mingyu anyway, so there’s absolutely no reason for Seokmin to be worried. It’s fine. He’s fine.

That night, he dreams of golden eyes.

 

 

From the very beginning, Wonwoo had established rules when it came to private investigations: only closed cases were allowed, and he would only take it if the job seemed ethical and unobtrusive. He was, after all, still technically a man of the law. Even if he no longer went to the precinct or worked at the lab, he had a badge in pocket as well as an officer license tucked into his wallet for whenever he needed the documentation. Wonwoo sifted through hundreds of different requests daily, filtering through an equal number of e-mails; his services had taken off due to his allowance of client anonymity, and his talent in his profession allowed his much-admired satisfaction rate to skyrocket not long after he opened his page.

Everything was typical and straightforward until around two months ago, when Wonwoo first received an e-mail from an anonymous source requesting him to reevaluate the contents of a closed case from the 1970s. It was a simple and easy request, nothing too crazy, just that Wonwoo should reexamine the evidence and check up on all the possible suspects, as well as the guilty party, before reporting his findings. They wanted a comprehensive revision, but asked that if anything strange pops up, that he report it first.

Weirdly, the client also went out of the way to mention that Wonwoo should not to trust any names given in the file because they were all covered up by the police a long time ago. The strange advice is what made the job a little more peculiar than most, but it wasn’t the first time he’d had a client with a chip on their shoulder, mistrustful of all authority. It’s why they hired him instead, after all. Families of the deceased had a way of staying furious in the face of apparent injustice. And anyway, the pay was good, so Wonwoo wasn’t one to refuse.

Once he started looking at it with fresh eyes, the case facts seemed standard as far as criminal cases go. The file described the violent murder of several teenagers by the local high school soccer coach in the woods near their small town. The coach had planned a celebratory camping trip with the eleven boys, all first stringers from the small soccer team, renting out two cabins with six people in each, including himself.

On the second day, the kind and popular coach unexpectedly snapped. In the middle of the night he picked off each boy by waking them up, one by one, and leading them deeper into the woods before viciously attacking them with an axe. Only the last boy survived because he woke up when he heard screaming, and upon finding both cabins empty, he grew terrified. Following a trail of footprints, he ran into the coach who was covered in blood, looking like a monster. Despite getting away, the boy still got hacked at several times, suffering massive trauma to the back and to his head. But still he ran, half-dead on his feet, towards the main road to wave down a car, eventually collapsing and losing consciousness promptly thereafter.

The more Wonwoo considered the case, the weirder the circumstances became. Despite the direct evidence, the coach being arrested and tried for murder within the span of a week and even pleading guilty before being sentenced for life, there were certain inconsistencies within the case itself:

Firstly, the murder weapon—an axe. Despite supposedly belonging to the log cabin rental company, it was not found at the scene of the crime, but rather later, in the coach’s home. It was covered in the blood of the victims, but even from the grainy old pictures Wonwoo could tell it barely looked used. It was small, and didn’t look strong enough to cause the kind of wounds on the bodies of the boys. And then there was the fact that the coach was arrested at the cabins, not at home; the police did take several hours to arrive since they were contacted after the surviving teen was taken to the nearest hospital that was still quite far away. Officers at the time speculated that the coach probably went home with the weapon, but then eventually returned to the scene out of guilt before the cops appeared, leaving the axe behind.

Secondly, the next strange instance was around the name of the survivor, who eventually died in the hospital after being in and out of a coma for a little over six years. His side of the story checked out alright, but the poor boy was also delirious most of the time and paralyzed from the neck down. Because he was a minor at the time of the crime, his full name had been censored except for his last name, Kim, while the rest of his name was penned in by hand some time later as “Jongmin”—which was shady because sometimes the handwritten name would say “Jongguk” or “Jongin,” the inconsistencies off-putting to say the least.

Wonwoo tried to look in to the school records to crosscheck the names of the students with the soccer team of the time, even if he only had the last names of the boys, but found to his surprise that the school burned down in a wildfire one summer night in 1975 with all the documents inside, just three years after the brutal killings. Even the hospital records were gone because that specific hospital purges their records every fifteen years.

Basically, despite all his digging, all he had to identify any of the teens were the photos from the crime scene with the boys’ faces blurred, as well as pictures of Jongmin’s injuries upon arrival at the hospital, his face also blurred to protect his identity. The local newspapers revealed nothing, not even the names of the families, everything carefully omitted like there truly had been some huge cover-up, just as his client had warned him about. The only thing he had to go by was the coach’s name and face, Lee Jaewoo, but that wasn’t going to help him identify anything about the victims except that his was the last face they saw before death.

Unable to accept defeat despite constantly running into dead ends, Wonwoo even went as far as to drop by his old precinct around a month ago, his former seniors and juniors welcoming him with big hugs and warm words, asking him to visit more often. Being the former head intelligence analyst, Wonwoo quickly gains the access needed to look through the main database in search for more information, or anything really, on the case. But since the crime had happened so long ago and it was so well covered up, there wasn’t much to go off except for maybe the recording of Lee Jaewoo’s trial.

After debating it for a while, Wonwoo had finally decided to watch the video feed, studying the coach’s face very carefully for any hints or slip-ups. Even from the pictures and newspaper articles the coach had looked young, very young in fact; the man wasn’t even thirty at the time of the murders, and he had a guilt-ridden face like he himself couldn’t believe what he’d done. He pled guilty without a single ounce of hesitation, crying the entire time. You would think it was all an act by how hard he was crying, cheeks hollowed and skin looking sickly pale, especially considering how brutal the killings had been, almost wild in nature. There was something strange about Jaewoo, too, like something wasn’t right about him, but the bad quality of the video footage didn’t allow for much deeper evaluation.

Further investigation revealed that Lee Jaewoo was murdered in jail a few months after his sentence, stabbed to death by his cellmate, thus rendering him unable to live out his life sentence. His death wasn’t highly publicized, overshadowed by other news from the time, but no one seemed to have batted an eye. He looked even frailer in the pictures taken from the investigation of the cell, and there was a startling lack of blood for the number of times he’d been stabbed—the records say it was eleven, presumably for each of the boys, but bizarrely the inmate that killed him had no relation to any of the kids. Jaewoo’s body was buried, and that was the end of that.

All in all, there were a lot of things that were not right about the case, from the boys’ deaths, the wildfire, to Jaewoo’s murder, and Jongmin’s eventual passing at the hospital six years later. It seemed that all traces of the case either straight up disappeared, or resulted in death.

After slaving over this particular case for much longer than he probably should have, Wonwoo had finally decided to call it quits. He hadn’t gotten this infatuated with a case since around the time of the bombing incident three years ago at the precinct, and the realization had made him feel incredibly sick to his stomach. Whenever he remembered that day, his ears started ringing and he couldn’t breathe fast enough for the air to reach his lungs. Soon after his realization, he wrapped up the investigation, relaying all his findings to the anonymous client via e-mail the day of his bar outing with Soonyoung.

Although it had only been a day since then, on his way home from the convenience store, Wonwoo’s phone beeped with the notification of a new e-mail. He reads it on his way up the stairs to his floor, eyes scanning every line carefully before coming to an alarmed stop directly in front of his doorway. The e-mail is from the same anonymous client, Mr. Choi as he calls himself, but this time he is requesting to meet and talk with Wonwoo in person about the case. The way he sounded over the e-mail, it was almost as if he needed to hear and see the information Wonwoo had given him himself. Which was understandable in a sense, but it was also the first time something like this happened, so Wonwoo is wary to say the least. He stares down at his phone for a long time, paused in front of his apartment door as he chews on his lower lip and thinks about what he should do.

It’s while he’s still standing there in the cold that he hears a muted clatter from inside that is hushed as quickly as it began. Wonwoo stops breathing for a beat, head shooting up as he stares at his door with wide eyes. He stays utterly silent after that, damaged ears straining to pick up any more sounds. He curses under his breath when it remains dead quiet, knowing that he’s not going to be able to pick up anything distant without his hearing aids to help. He hated wearing them, more because they were uncomfortable but also because he could hear just fine when people were close enough; it was only an issue when it came to situations like this, when he couldn’t be sure of his safety or if he was just mishearing. And even still, Wonwoo wasn’t a cop anymore, and he shouldn’t have to worry about situations like this at this stage, but paranoia is a hard thing to combat.

After debating for another few seconds, he texts Soonyoung, telling him that if he doesn’t send another text within the next ten minutes, to immediately call the police for him. Soonyoung replies straightaway, but Wonwoo silences his phone without even glancing down at the response, hoping for an affirmative and that his friend doesn’t worry too much. Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo slides in his keys slowly, so not to make any noise. A soft click is heard and the door gives way under the slight pressure of his palm. In winter the nights come early, and the darkness inside his home reflects the outside despite it barely even being six. There is no obvious movement, no sound, nothing, just stillness as Wonwoo carefully steps inside and examines his apartment, carefully closing the door behind him.

Leaving his plastic bags next to the door, he tiptoes further inside on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as he searches the premises. Nothing looks out of place, and anything that does look off could simply be attributed to Soonyoung snooping like he normally does when he thinks Wonwoo isn’t looking. Wonwoo checks his office first because that’s where his most valuable objects are. Everything looks fine, and Wonwoo hates himself for being so messy and unorganized because it’s not like he’ll notice any changes either way. He used to be so neat and clean for everything, but a lot has changed about him in the past three years.

When his search of the apartment turns up empty, Wonwoo figures that his ears must have been playing tricks on him again. It wouldn’t be the first time anyway, as he still wakes up some mornings with obnoxious ringing in his right ear. It could also just as well have been his neighbor, and Wonwoo’s faulty ears had thought it had come from his place instead. Feeling comforted by this possibility, Wonwoo takes out his phone and looks at his text messages, chuckling when he sees the series of twenty-or-so panicked texts from Soonyoung.

 

> **Wonwoo [5:58PM]:  
>  ** If I don’t text you again in the next 10 minutes…
> 
> Call the police for me.
> 
> **Soonyoung [5:58PM]:  
>  ** wait what???
> 
> wonwoo????? wtf is this about??
> 
> **[5:59PM]  
>  ** you asshat u better reply!!
> 
> i know u saw my texts!!!
> 
> ill call the cops rn if i hav to
> 
> **[6:01PM]  
>  ** its been 3 mins an u havent said anything
> 
> whats goin on???????
> 
> **[6:02PM]  
>  ** wonwoo!!!!
> 
> what
> 
> is
> 
> going
> 
> on
> 
> **[6:03PM]  
>  ** r u still alive?????
> 
> oh my god what if ur dead and im just
> 
> idk
> 
> yexting u w/o knwoing an like
> 
> damn
> 
> i shouldve called the cops first no matter what!!!
> 
> **[6:04PM]  
>  ** pls reply
> 
> wat am i gonna tell ur mum
> 
> she trusted me
> 
> **[6:05PM]  
>  ** WONWOO
> 
> **Wonwoo [6:05PM]:  
>  ** Dude chill, LOL.
> 
> Everything is cool.
> 
> **Soonyoung [6:05PM]:  
>  ** scare me like that again
> 
> and ur a dead man
> 
> **Wonwoo [6:05PM]:  
>  ** LOL.
> 
> **Soonyoung [6:05PM]:  
>  ** u n ur grammer can go 2 hell

 

With another chuckle, Wonwoo mercifully decides not to correct Soonyoung’s spelling of the word grammar, pocketing his phone and heading to his bathroom. He washes up and changes into more comfortable house clothing, before settling down in front of his computer and deciding to respond affirmatively to the client’s request. In the reply, he agrees only to meet up in a semi-public space, near a bar or a restaurant where he has easy access to other people if need be. Wonwoo was a trained police officer after all, even if he’d been out of commission for three years. He may look skinny and unassuming, but you don’t just simply _forget_ all the years of martial arts and self-defense from the police academy, even if his goal had been to be an intelligence analyst and sit in front of computer all day—kind of like what he was doing now. Wonwoo had the brains and the physical skills, even if he didn’t always seem like it.

Before sending the e-mail, Wonwoo briefly hesitates. He has a strangely bad feeling about the entire situation, especially after what just happened in his apartment (or, technically, _didn’t_ happen), but his thoughts wander over to the murdered teenagers. The old Wonwoo, the strongminded, inquisitive one with the confident voice in the back of his head that shows up from time to time, reminds him that he truly does want some answers about this case—even if it could just be some extra insight and not anything definitive. It’s very possible that Mr. Choi didn’t know much either, but he could also know more than he lets on; he must have known _something_ at least, if he knew that the name of the survivor in the casefile was blatantly a fake.

At the same time, Wonwoo knows what happens when a big case like this is covered up for reasons beyond his comprehension. His ears throb in a visceral response, a piercing pain that has him wincing as he lowers head and stills, desperately willing the sharp sting away. The little determined fire in his chest is still there though, even after the discomfort passes, and he uses the opportunity to send the response before he can take it back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love hearing feedback. :)


	4. Interim I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided that after every couple of chapters, there will be an interim chapter where I give a short snippet of Mingyu's side of the story. I've purposefully kept some phrases and things ambiguous because Mingyu already understands them, even if we don't, but it'll be explained eventually as Wonwoo learns more. Enjoy~

As he lies still, Mingyu can feel his heart pounding in his chest, erratic and unsteady, straining to keep what little blood he has left running through his veins. He’s thirsty, although strangely more than usual, but he must wait; blood distributions from the local donors have at least another week or so to arrive, so he must keep himself together until then. He’s not usually in such a bad shape when it comes to handling his needs—you’d think he’d have the hang of this after nearly forty years of dealing with this lifestyle—but something has him on edge lately, makes the monster inside of him bare its fangs with the knowledge that there have been suspicious happenings around him.

Even among vampires Mingyu is abnormal, from his golden eyes to his hot skin and beating heart. He hears the hushed whispers of his peers, can feel their wary eyes watching his every movement at moonlit gatherings, and although he stands out among his coven, he’s not the only unusual thing about their group. Everything concerning their coven is extremely different from the others, from their leader to the vampires who follow him, their existence and dynamics practically offensive in the eyes of others.

Mingyu is sleeping when Jihoon appears at his doorway, and his eyes immediately fly open when he senses the elder’s presence, a welcome distraction from his frantic thoughts. Sleep is just a relative term since meditating is more accurate, but it’s never quite felt right with Mingyu to say that he doesn’t sleep, even if he’s only been human for less than half as long as he’s been a monster.

He sits up in bed, a blur as he moves to stand in front of Jihoon and look down at him with wide, curious eyes. Jihoon was the stealthiest and the quietest of their kind, enough that you wouldn’t hear him approaching even if you were waiting for it. Mingyu always was the least bothered by the fact; after all, he was the most human among them, and the least prideful. A long life can change a person, and that’s always been the case with vampires.

“Hyung?” Mingyu inquires when Jihoon just stares back without addressing him, making the elder cringe at the suddenness and intensity of his voice as it breaks the careful silence that had settled over the coven house. A sheepish, apologetic grin pulls at the corner of the taller man’s mouth when he belatedly realizes that he’d spoken louder than he needed to, eagerness getting the best of him. At least he knows it’s nothing that Jihoon isn’t used to experiencing at this point because wherever Jihoon went, Mingyu has always followed closeby.

“Hyungnim has been on edge for two months now,” Jihoon tells him in a soft voice, hands behind his back as he strolls inside Mingyu’s room. He needs to keep their conversation low in case anyone else in the coven house accidentally overhears what they’re talking about. The place is large and modern, the walls sturdy and soundproof enough to give them peace of mind in a world with so much noise, but curious ears of the undead can pick up anything if they listen hard enough. “I think he’s being stalked by a slayer.”

“ _Again_?” Mingyu growls in frustration, his voice barely a low vibration, but Jihoon can hear every nuance loud and clear. “When will they stop giving us grief about having a bloodborn coven leader?”

“As soon as the Ancients get over themselves,” Jihoon answers automatically, like many times before when Mingyu has asked this exact same question. Despite being one of the youngest vampires in their coven, Mingyu has always been outspoken about some of the more outdated regulations in their community, but more than that he hates the arrogance of their people—especially amongst themselves. “I know it bothers you, but this has been going on for nearly two centuries now, Mingyu. They can’t stand the fact that a bloodborn has not just one, but _three_ lushborn vampires following him willingly. Especially one with as high a status as Jeonghan hyung. It’s like hyungnim is spitting on the faces of every Ancient family and their descendants each time our coven is seen out in public together.”

Mingyu sighs heavily at that, the first breath he’s taken in days, and the still air around them comes to life. Vampire politics were at times even more annoying than human ones, and Mingyu never fails to get riled up by it. It doesn’t help that his fuse is shorter now than it typically is, with the fact that he’s getting very, very thirsty. “I wish hyungnim would let us help him out sometimes,” Mingyu mutters instead, sitting down on the edge of his bed to compose himself, even if only a little. “I know he can take care of it without us, but no one has done anything to stop the Ancients from sic’ing a slayer on him every couple decades. It’s seriously annoying.”

Jihoon purses his lips at that, pausing for a moment to study Mingyu’s features with a contemplative look on his face as he falls into an introspective silence. His sudden quietness is unsettling, Mingyu’s curiosity making him impatient as he waits for Jihoon to speak his mind. After what feels like forever, the smaller man’s expression darkens considerably, as if he didn’t like where his thoughts have led him. This time, when he speaks, it’s hard for even Mingyu to hear, Jihoon’s voice coming out so quiet that it barely makes a sound at all.

“Considering it now, they’ve been going about it differently than usual. I… don’t think this is related to the Ancients. Not this time.” He looks at Mingyu pointedly, the taller man’s brows furrowing in confusion for a couple beats before realization finally dawns on him, faster than Jihoon had expected it to.

“Oh,” Mingyu says, and his voice shakes a little. And then again, with deeper understanding, he repeats: “ _Oh_. You… you think it’s _that_?”

Jihoon nods slowly, mind still racing. “Hyungnim mentioned it to me a several weeks ago, out of the blue. It surprised me. We haven’t spoken about it in decades.” He chews his lip, thinking back. “He was especially on edge that day….”

And just like that, Jihoon watches Mingyu get ready to leave within the span of a few seconds, time moving in slow motion as he looks at the younger vampire sympathetically; he won’t show it on his face however, knowing full well that if you give Mingyu an inch, he’ll take it and run for miles. Jihoon has been careful with how he’s raised Mingyu in their coven so far, a kind of stray unlike any other, and even if the time they’ve spent together has barely spanned a twelfth of Jihoon’s life, Mingyu truly feels like his little brother.

“It hasn’t been long since hyungnim left the house,” Jihoon supplies as he trails the younger vampire outside, starting his sentence in the bedroom and ending it at the front gate. “Maybe a couple minutes, if that. I came to see you as soon as he left.”

Mingyu stops before running off to follow in the direction of Seungcheol’s trace, turning around to face Jihoon properly. “Hyung, are you sure?” he questions seriously, because his skin is turning more ashen by the day, fangs aching in his gums. As his body starts using up the last of the blood inside him, sheer adrenaline makes up most of what runs through his veins, heart racing to keep up the effort. Unlike other vampires, thirst makes Mingyu stronger, more predatory and less humane, crimson seeping into his golden eyes as well as his vision. And yet, no matter how hungry he gets, he still can’t bring himself to drink from another person, even if his instincts beg for him to do otherwise; Mingyu feels so painfully human sometimes that it frightens him.

“I might kill them,” Mingyu confesses when Jihoon doesn’t say anything in response to his question, and there is conflict in the younger vampire’s face, his golden eyes glowing dimly in the darkness. “Even if it isn’t who we think it is, I might kill them, out of anger. And then I’ll hate myself.”

With a wry chuckle, Jihoon simply turns around. “Not if hyungnim kills him first,” he says casually, slowly strolling back up the sidewalk to the front door and not even bothering to glance behind him once. “The one who holds the biggest grudge for what happened isn’t you, Mingyu.”

A prickle travels up Mingyu’s spine, a vision of Seungcheol’s furious gaze and bared fangs appearing from his memories. He snorts to himself, ducking his head but feeling warm, the kind of warmth only family could give. It’s then he catches a familiar scent; it’s heady, stronger than ever, more sharp than he remembers, and oddly different. His head snaps up in that direction, skin tingling again when he recognizes it. An unsettling feeling burrows into the pit of his stomach, an omen of sorts.

Within seconds, Mingyu is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part will be up soon! I was planning to post more often but I got distracted by watching Seventeen's One Fine Day in Japan, oops. I keep binge-watching so many videos of Seventeen (and especially Wonwoo *sob*) on youtube that it's scary, lol. I love these silly boys so much ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! I can't believe it hasn't even been a month since I got into them, where have they been all my life?
> 
> Oh, I've also made a Seventeen sideblog on tumblr ([wonwhale](https://wonwhale.tumblr.com)) bc I kept posting way to much of them in my multifandom blog, lol. And to help you visualize, [this is what they look like in the fic.](https://wonwhale.tumblr.com/post/169683479378)


	5. Golden eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i took forever to edit this, and even then i'm still not done....... also seungcheol is a good guy, i swear. just very, very protective of his kids. lol.

Wonwoo’s breaths escape from between his lips as white smoke, swirling up into the blackened expanse of sky as he walks out of his timeworn apartment complex and into the cold night. His glasses fog up for a good minute at the sudden change of environment and he pauses for a moment to wipe, tugging at the soft fabric of his t-shirt from under his jacket to clean with. The low temperature seeps into his exposed skin, a shiver running down his spine.

As he cleans, he’s distracted by the cloudy puffs coming from his mouth, the sight reminiscent of a bad smoking habit he used to have for years, before the odor of anything burning started to trigger severe panic attacks. While he’s pretty much desensitized to burning smells now, Wonwoo never picked up the habit again despite that how at one point he couldn’t even go an entire day without at least a single cigarette. It’s only when he accidentally recalls little things about his past self randomly like this that fact that he’ll probably never be the person he used to be truly hits him, mood souring immediately as his chest grows heavy with a perplexing feeling of loss and emptiness.

After clearing his glasses and readjusting the hood of his black jacket over his head so that it won’t slip off, Wonwoo stuffs his hands deep into his pockets and continues his trek down the narrow, winding road to where his old black sedan is parked along the curb next to several others. The streetlights are scarce, few and far between, and at night their dim outdoor bulbs don’t shine very far. Wonwoo isn’t too concerned by this fact, as he’s strolled down this same road at night hundreds of times before in various states of sobriety, but there is something especially off about tonight—and has been all day, if he’s honest. It makes him feel restless, like he’s constantly being watched, and he can’t stop looking over his shoulders. He keeps expecting to see another person following him, so sure that he can feel eyes trailing after him, although he might be finally going crazy.

When it comes down to it, Wonwoo is not sure if he’s just being paranoid or if he’s in any actual danger. Regardless, he has his hearing aids on for tonight just in case, although it’s been awhile since he’s last worn them and he is slightly put-off by the reminder of how loud the world can be, even when nothing in particular is going on. It is very distracting at times, but Wonwoo also likes knowing that he’s not as alone in the world as he tends to feel when everything around him is slightly muted. As he climbs into his car, buckling his seatbelt and relishing in the hitched rumble of the engine as it comes to life, he considers wearing the hearing aids more often, although he doubts he’ll follow through with that idea.

Most streets in Seoul are never fully empty, no matter the time of day, and with that small comfort in mind, Wonwoo hurriedly drives his car towards the rendezvous point that lies further into the city. He parks curbside a few streets down when he knows he’s nearby, realizing that the area is particularly quiet and relatively empty compared to others, despite it being a Saturday night. There are only a couple people loitering about in the cold because of the bar around here, and as he makes his way towards the destination point, the numbers dwindle down to just him. The feeling of being watched returns almost immediately, just when Wonwoo had almost forgotten about it, his skin crawling again. With quiet, darkened buildings on either side of him and flickering lampposts above, he can’t help but walk faster, even if his destination isn’t particularly desirable, either. He listens carefully for trailing footsteps but doesn’t catch anything except for some distant feedback coming from his hearing aids.

Wonwoo is fully aware of how suspicious this entire meetup is, what with it being in an alleyway located in an emptier part of town during the middle of the night. Even if it _is_ close enough to a bar where if he yelled someone might call the cops, he knows that he probably should have told Soonyoung about it in case something went wrong. But the suspiciousness of the meeting is exactly why Wonwoo didn’t tell him; he didn’t want to create unnecessary panic on his friend’s part, not when he had his own life to deal with.

The truth is, Soonyoung doesn’t know just how much Wonwoo does for his clientele in terms of detective work because if he did, he’d worry about Wonwoo’s mental health. He’d question if Wonwoo was ready to handle that kind of stress again when he’s clearly not completely over his trauma, and he’s not wrong to think that way. Soonyoung knows Wonwoo too well, which is exactly why the detective chose to stay mum. Wonwoo has been desperately clinging to the idea of “returning” to normalcy as of late, tired of his life being dictated by an event that happened to him in the past, even if he knows his bad habit of pushing himself too hard is probably all that’s fueling him at this point. A part of him thinks that if he cracks open a big case on his own like he used to, he’ll finally feel like himself again.

So, even with circumstances as peculiar and inconsistent as the ones he’s learned about in the Gurim High School soccer team murders, it’s no wonder that he is willing to go so far to meet his anonymous client. A lot of the courage he feels to see this through also stems from his need to discover what really happened that mysterious night all those years ago, despite common sense telling him to watch his back with this case; if there is one thing about Wonwoo that has never changed, it’s his nosiness. There must be a good reason why so many of the files involving the Gurim case were restricted or largely redacted, and he hopes to get at least a couple answers tonight, even if it boils down to a skirmish. But as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, although Wonwoo really, _really,_ hopes that the cat gets away alive this time.

Before he even realizes it, the detective finally reaches the alleyway that leads down to the meeting point. He halts just before entering, the opening into the passage just a few steps in front of him. All he has to do is go in and wait for Mr. Choi to show up, but the idea is suddenly a lot more daunting than it was earlier in his head. He hesitates for a beat, knowing that this could all go very bad, very fast. Wonwoo quietly steels himself by breathing slow and deep, willing his heartbeat to slow, clenching his fists and closing his eyes to pull himself together.

Once calmed, he decides to check and first see if anything is lying in wait for him, so Wonwoo leans a little around the corner to peek into the alley. The first thing he realizes is that the alley is not as dark as he thought it would be, although even then he would have liked for it to be brighter so that the shadows wouldn’t look as suspicious and intimidating. There are a few subdued wall lights high up on the sides of the buildings, shining down into the space between and highlighting a couple dumpsters, some litter, as well as the other end of the alley, opposite to Wonwoo—which is good, in case there is a sudden need for escape in that direction.

Except that there is someone already standing there.

Wonwoo’s breath catches as his eyes study the lone figure waiting on the opposite side of the alley, several minutes earlier than planned, and he freezes in place as he attempts to see better despite the large distance between them. When neither of them move for a good couple minutes, Wonwoo cautiously begins his approach, knowing that entering this dimly lit space is like walking into a lion’s den with no means of protection apart from the knife in pocket. The closer he grows, the clearer the silhouette becomes, and Wonwoo’s stomach sinks to the floor when he realizes that the other person is actually facing him, their shoulders squared and face hidden underneath a hooded black sweatshirt as they take a step towards the detective.

Wonwoo shouldn’t be this afraid when nothing has happened yet, except that all the alarms in his head are going off as his already racing heart skyrockets. It becomes extremely clear that something is horribly wrong, and that he needs to leave _immediately_ before something really bad happens. In a split second, the detective’s body tenses, ready to immediately turn tail and sprint all the way back to his car, but he’s not able to do anything more than feel the terror rattling his bones. Before he can even breathe or blink, his fight or flight response just about to kick into high gear, the hooded figure disappears, leaving behind a flickering afterimage. The next thing Wonwoo knows is that he’s being pinned to the wall, feet no longer making contact with the ground no matter how much he flails.

The change had been so fast, so abrupt, that Wonwoo’s brain can’t keep up, head spinning as he tries to gather his bearings. He blinks rapidly behind his skewed glasses as he tries to get his vision to focus on the man in front of him, hearing aids whistling from being jostled out of position. He hisses in pain as he rapidly shakes his head, dislodging the screeching devices from his ears so that they fall to ground with a dull clunk, the back of his head throbbing from where it had originally slammed into the wall.

The person—the monster, really—is pinning Wonwoo’s back up against the rough brick with their arm on Wonwoo’s chest, the side of their other forearm pressing against the detective’s neck and leaving just enough room to allow him to shakily gasp for breath. Even the slightest shift by the stranger could easily cut off his air supply if they so wished, which makes him panic. Wonwoo must have lost more weight than he realized; he feels so incredibly fragile pinned to the brick like this, as if he could break so easily under the strength of his assaulter, the bones under his skin like brittle straw compared to strength the other person uses. He struggles without relent, clawing at the arm holding him up with both his hands, but to no avail.

Wonwoo’s heart running so fast it might stop any second, and he feels a kind of terror he hasn’t experienced before, like this could be his actual final moment on Earth, staring into the shadowed hood of a monster. The bombing incident had been unexpected, and Wonwoo had disassociated so bad the first few weeks that he didn’t have time to worry about what could have happened to him, but this… this was different.

“Are you Detective Jeon? Tell me who you work for! Who the hell are you to threaten my coven?!” a gruff male voice spits at him in an angry roar that seems to echo throughout the alleyway. Wonwoo flinches at the sound, face losing all color when he sees fucking _fangs_ in the guy’s mouth; they glint in the shoddy outdoor lighting when he speaks, glowering up at Wonwoo and revealing more of his face from under the hood to uncover sharp, glaring charcoal eyes shaded by heavy black brows. The man’s violet lips are curled into a snarl that makes his long fangs stand out even more, and unable to pull his gaze away from those menacing teeth, Wonwoo remains dumbstruck as the stranger continues to seethe

“I thought some cocky-as-shit vampire would show up, judging by your fucking smell! But one look at your pathetic face and I knew you were fucking human! Only a true fool would ask to meet a vampire despite knowing what we’re capable of. I bet you don’t feel so smart now, you piece of shit!”

Wonwoo’s brain is still spiraling— _did he just call himself a vampire?_ —and the longer he gapes in shock down at the fuming man does he realize that he actually recognizes him: it’s Seungcheol, the same restless man who sat next to Jeonghan in the booth at the bar with a very obvious chip on his shoulder. Despite his biting words and insults, he’s not making any sense, and Wonwoo has no clue how to reply or what the hell is even going on anymore.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he chokes out, still struggling to free himself despite his confusion. He kicks out his legs but it’s like he’s hitting a solid wall in front of him and not another human being—which Seungcheol is clearly _not_.

“Stop fucking lying!” the other man—the _vampire_ —hisses back, bringing his face closer to Wonwoo’s, his body radiating an inhuman artic cold instead of heat, making Wonwoo’s skin crawl from how disturbingly abnormal it feels. “I’ve been receiving arrogant, threatening e-mails for two months now, saying shit like someone tipped you off and you were gonna expose Jongmin’s identity! He was just a fucking _kid_! You better tell me who put you up to this or I swear I’ll kill you, right here, right now, and I won’t even care! You threaten my family and you fucking die, simple is that!”

Seungcheol is suddenly pressing harder against Wonwoo’s throat, slamming his head back and depriving him of oxygen; the fury-induced wildness in his livid charcoal eyes intensifies the freak-out Wonwoo is experiencing by ten-fold. “I was paid to look in to the Gurim massacre from ’72 and meet up with a Mr. Choi here to tell him what I found! That’s it! I swear, that’s really all I know, this has to be a misunderstanding, I really have no leads on Jongmin, I was just—” Wonwoo yelps, his voice choking near the end as air stops going into his lungs for a few seconds, the back of his head throbbing from where he’d hit the wall for a second time. Seungcheol loosens his hold again, but he doesn’t look satisfied with Wonwoo’s answer.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you even know about what happened at Gurim?! Keep your filthy fucking muzzle out of shit that isn’t any of your business!” Seungcheol practically screams back, fire still flaring in his gaze. His hauntingly handsome face curls into a mocking laugh as he scoffs at Wonwoo’s struggle to breathe properly, like he doesn’t think the detective even deserves what little air he’s allowing him. “And this is twice you’ve lied to me, Detective Jeon. I can smell the damn vampire on you like you’ve been living with them for months! I bet you’re a fucking fangtoy, aren’t you?!”

“God, I _swear_ I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Wonwoo pleads hoarsely, feeling closer and closer to blacking out as the seconds tick by. His heart is hammering so hard against his throat that it feels like he’ll vomit it out any minute, not enough air going in as there is going out, and he’s sure that there is blood dripping down the back of his head. He’s realized how fruitless it is to struggle against Seungcheol’s hold on him, so instead he just tries to keep himself from being choked again, even if he knows he’s not strong enough to do anything. “Look, just let me prove it to you! I can even show you all my correspondence emails—I never threatened you! I just did what I was paid to do and reported my findings!”

Seungcheol scoffs again, like he really can’t believe the situation, looking less wild now, but the wrath in his eyes seems to have only grown. “Fucking pathetic. A _third_ lie to my face, and for what? You know, I’ll just kill you now so we won’t ever have to deal with you or your fucking bitch-ass vampire owner again. Even better if you’re their hemi, not that you look like you’ve got much blood on you anyway. That’ll teach them a lesson.” Seungcheol’s expression dead serious as he says this, and despite not understand half of what is being said, Wonwoo sees his entire life flash before his eyes as he’s deprived of oxygen again, realizing that he’s really about to die over what was clearly a horrible scam made to frame him.

Right then, a new yet somehow eerily familiar voice cackles into existence overhead. “Now, now, Cheol-ah. That was quite a show, but there’s no need to jump the gun here. I can’t let you kill the detective, he’s been quite useful to me so far. Who knows what secrets he could dig up for me if I keep pushing your buttons?”

Wonwoo is too preoccupied with not dying to look up to where the voice is coming from—the roof, or a balcony looking down at them perhaps—but Seungcheol does. Before Wonwoo even knows what is happening, he’s dropped unceremoniously to the ground in a pile of trembling limbs, hand on his neck as he desperately gasps for air and refill his lungs. He’s shaking so much he can’t get up, weakly looking up to try and figure out his surroundings again. Seungcheol and the new person are currently standing off a couple feet away from him; the other guy must have jumped down from wherever they’d been before, and he hasn’t even bothered to cover his face. Wonwoo’s blood runs cold when he recognizes who it is—Lee Jaewoo, or at least a very convincing doppelganger of the coach responsible for the deaths of the eleven boys from the 1972 Gurim High School soccer team. He looks exactly as he had at the time of his court hearing, still looking twenty-nine without even a hint of aging. He doesn’t appear sad or remorseful as he had from the old court video recording, a smirk on his face instead of tears as he faces off with Seungcheol.

It takes Seungcheol a few more beats to recognize him as well, his confusion twisting into a kind of anger that was different from the one he’d been directing towards Wonwoo only seconds before—he looks almost hysterical now, hands clenching into fists as he launches himself at Jaewoo without an ounce of hesitation. “ _You fucking bloodsucker!!_ ” he howls, not even thinking twice before they both evaporate into a smudge of swinging knuckles and kicks. The alley walls and the concrete ground cracks and crumbles from their impacts as they violently throw each other around in a near invisible blur, Wonwoo’s brain unable to register what he’s seeing as he stares at the insane sight with his eyes open wide, wondering if this entire situation was an elaborate nightmare his brain created to cope with him losing his mind like he is starting to believe he was.

Wonwoo finally readjusts his glasses with his stinging palms, struggling to get up again but still finding no strength in his body, likely from shock. _It has to be a bad dream_ , he thinks to himself, trying to calm down but finding himself starting panic again, hyperventilating as he continues to shake. Even though he’s no longer in any immediate danger, he feels sick from how hard his heart is beating, knowing that he has to run away _like right now_ , but can’t physically make himself do so when he’s this petrified. He truly thought he’d be able to handle the situation even if shit hit the fan, that he was okay enough to maybe deal with distress again, but he was still clearly disturbed. The wave of severe nausea he feels from the stress makes him heave, although his empty stomach doesn’t have anything to vomit out. Instead he’s hit with vertigo, trying not to pass out while still at the mercy of the two monsters duking it out even if they had already moved their fight up onto the roof and away from view.

“What—Wonwoo?!” a voice suddenly calls out his name in shock, loud enough for him to hear despite all the ringing in his head and his aching ears, hearing aids long since fallen to the ground and nowhere to be seen. Wonwoo looks behind him towards the other opening of the alley and sees a tall form that could only belong to Kim Mingyu, who appears to be taking in the situation. After a beat, he surges over in not even a second, suddenly so close to Wonwoo’s face that the detective’s vision takes a moment to focus before finding Mingyu’s golden eyes only inches away, looking directly into his soul. Mingyu looks like he has so much to say, his gaze searching as his furrowed brow shifts his expression from one of bewilderment to understanding. “Are you okay?” he asks in a soothing voice, and Wonwoo almost doesn’t hear it because Mingyu’s eyes had flashed a chilling crimson for a brief second before he spoke.

Wonwoo only feels fear as he flinches back, common sense reminding him that Mingyu was also likely a monster or a vampire or whatever the hell the other two were. “S-Stay away from me!” he shouts, albeit weakly, feeling lightheaded again especially because Mingyu’s eyes are so focused on him, the crimson seeming to bleed into the gold again. There is something so dangerous and off-putting about him, yet at the same time so strangely gentle; it makes Wonwoo’s stomach twist in discomfort and another emotion he can’t actually put into words.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything first, his expression resigned as he steps back just as he is told. He chews on his lip before glancing up to where Seungcheol and Jaewoo are still fighting, now on the roof; the taller man is clearly agitated about something unknown to Wonwoo, his expression stressed as he runs his hands through his dark hair. “I… I’ll be right back,” Mingyu finally tells him, automatically reaching out to maybe calm Wonwoo with a pat or something before halting just as fast, pulling back so quickly that the detective could have simply been imagining it.

Just like that, Mingyu is gone again without another word, and the sound of fighting fades into the distance. Wonwoo thinks he might have blacked out because when he comes to again, he’s now propped up against the brick wall, sitting on the ground as he tries to gather himself. “I can’t believe I let him get away!” Seungcheol’s furious voice suddenly cuts through the silence of the alley, clear enough that Wonwoo realizes that someone had skillfully put his hearing aids back in properly while he was unconscious. “You know that the bastard was taunting me? He said that they let him out high court prison because those fucking Ancients petitioned his release, knowing he’d come after me!”

“Hyungnim, it’s not your fault. If he’s done his research like he says, then he must have known that I’m a changeling. He ran off with his tail between his legs because he was planning to,” Mingyu’s much calmer voice adds on, and Wonwoo cranes his neck a little to catch sight of the coven leader pacing the width of the alley as the taller of the two looks on with his hands resting on his hips. “And anyway, I think that’s not the biggest concern right now. Someone must have tipped him off about our coven because there’s no way for him to have known otherwise, unless Jihoon hyung let something slip—”

“That’s nonsense,” Seungcheol snaps back immediately, cutting Mingyu off while fervently shaking his head in dismissal. “He’d never do that.”

“I know, exactly.” Then, Mingyu pauses for a moment, clearly hesitating. His voice is too low for Wonwoo to hear properly, but he can read Mingyu’s lips even while squinting to pretend to still be asleep. “Was it… really Lee Jaewoo?”

Seungcheol exchanges looks with Mingyu before nodding in affirmation; Mingyu’s gaze drops to the floor, troubled, and Seungcheol immediately rests a hand on the taller man’s cheek in such an intimate way that it startles Wonwoo. However, there is also something incredibly fatherly about the action, so different from the raging monster who’d pinned Wonwoo to the wall not too long ago that the detective has trouble piecing together the two separate images of the coven leader. “Gyu… he doesn’t even know where the hospital buried the body. He clearly doesn’t even remember the name of the kid he almost killed. We don’t need to be worry about him. I will never let anyone take any of my children from me, even if I die trying. I’ll just come back to life every time.”

Mingyu purses his lips like he’s about to cry, although he doesn’t, simply nodding instead with a short laugh. Neither vampire says anything after that, silent and lost in thought, until Seungcheol’s head suddenly snaps to look right at Wonwoo. Terrified, Wonwoo almost visibly flinches, but he manages to hold it in and tries really hard to keep his heart steady, pretending to still be sleeping. After seeing how fast they were firsthand, he already knows that he can’t even dream of outrunning either them if push came to shove, but maybe they might leave him alone now that the main antagonist has escaped.

“I still think we should kill the detective,” the coven leader states unwaveringly, his voice hard again as he dashes what was left of Wonwoo’s hopeful optimism. “He’s a liability. I also think he may be Jaewoo’s fangtoy. He smells so strongly of him that it makes me sick. I originally thought he might’ve been his hemi, but he doesn’t have any visible markings. Plus, no sane creature would leave their hemi to the mercy of other vampires.”

“Hyungnim, I seriously think this was all a set-up,” Mingyu stalls, trying to keep a light tone as he bargains for Wonwoo’s life—which is surprising, because he doesn’t owe Wonwoo anything. Now that Wonwoo has calmed from his initial shock, despite still being scared and confused out of his mind, he can now assess the situation more objectively. With everything he’s gathered so far, Wonwoo suspects that Jaewoo might have been the person he’d sensed following him around all this time; he’d even presented himself as Mr. Choi, someone Wonwoo assumed to be just any other client for the past two months, and used Wonwoo’s identity to communicate with Seungcheol in a threatening manner by using all the information Wonwoo had gathered against him. Mingyu confirms that suspicion when he continues to speak, on the same page as Wonwoo. “He used the detective as bait to cause a scene and sniff you out. I think he just wanted to confirm if you were really involved in the case or not, and when you showed up here as planned, he got the answer he wanted.”

“Misunderstanding or not, it doesn’t change the fact that Detective Jeon knows too much,” Seungcheol replies, crossing his arms with an imposing stare up at the taller vampire. “His e-mails had a worrisome amount of confidential information in them. It shows that he had access to a couple restricted casefiles that Jihoon had blocked off himself years ago, although they just skim the surface. Who knows what he’ll find if we leave him, _and_ he’s even been eavesdropping this whole time, despite having woken up several minutes ago.”

Wonwoo’s heart stops then, fear curdling in his stomach as he allows his eyes fling to open and face the music. He scrambles clumsily to his feet, facing the two vampires in a defensive stance despite knowing that he was no match for them. His eyes meet Mingyu’s just as Seungcheol makes to step forward, and Mingyu mouths out something to Wonwoo that he never thought he’d witness him say: _Run!_ Right after, Mingyu suddenly turns and hugs Seungcheol from the front, the coven leader sputtering in shock, and Wonwoo is amazed how he can’t budge Mingyu in the slightest.

“Kim Mingyu, what the fuck?!” the shorter vampire bellows, struggling against the taller man’s hold.

“I, uh, just suddenly really needed a hug!” Mingyu answers, before shooting Wonwoo another frantic look over his shoulder, pointing with his head towards the opposite end of the alley and then turning back and resuming his tight bear hug. The detective takes that as another to cue to run if there ever was any, and he finally turns around sprints out of the alleyway without looking back. The only thing on his mind as he frantically buckles himself into his car and peals out onto the highway is the sight of Mingyu’s bright gold eyes glowing in the dim alley, signaling for him to escape, the vision imprinted in his memories even when he desperately wants to forget.

 

 

Wonwoo arrives back to his apartment in record time despite experiencing the strangest couple hours of his entire existence. He collapses inside next to the front door, the strength in his body completely gone again. Three years of playing it safe and the one day Wonwoo tries to be confident in himself and his skill, he discovers _vampires_. And not just one, but apparently, an entire community of them. Strangest of all, a killer from a forty-year-old closed case turned up today out of the blue, alive and well even though Wonwoo had literally seen with his two eyes several clear photos of Lee Jaewoo’s _own_ murder by a fellow prison inmate.

Half of Wonwoo is convinced he just dreamed it all, that his weird infatuation in Kim Mingyu since that night at the club transformed into some sort of convoluted waking-nightmare, mixed in with all the stress he’s been experiencing; the other half of him just feels sick to his stomach from anxiety, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and pretend nothing happened. He doesn’t know anything about vampires outside of pop culture, and he’d heard a lot of different terms tonight that he can’t even begin to comprehend. What was it that Seungcheol called him with his lip curled in disgust? Fangtoy? That sounded bad, even just by the name, reminding him of the coven leader’s pointed teeth glinting menacingly in the dark, before shaking his head in an attempt to forget it.

Rubbing his face viciously to try to keep it together, Wonwoo finally picks himself up and heads into his room to wash the night’s grit off himself and pass out. Maybe in the morning, when his mind is clear and he’s had some rest, he’ll be able to sort out everything better. It isn’t until he’s in the shower, wincing as he tries to clean off the dried blood scabbing at the back of his head, that his mind very suddenly supplies him with the memory of hearing someone inside his house a couple days ago. He’d dismissed the idea of anyone in his apartment then, but now that he thinks on it, could it have been Jaewoo all this time?

The realization that a murdering monster might have had access to Wonwoo at any point these past two months—that he still does, _even right at this very moment_ —is so disturbing and chilling that all the hairs on his body stand straight up. Frantically shutting off the hot water and scrambling out of the shower, Wonwoo tries to calm himself even amidst his fright, taking deep breaths and trying not to overthink the situation. But still, the panic hits him much quicker this time, nerves still frayed from his earlier experience, although for good reason. Once Wonwoo wraps a towel around his waist, he presses his ear against the bathroom door and strains to hear something, anything, that might give away to another presence in his home. Not that he could do anything about it if there was, unarmed and alone as he was in his own apartment, with nothing to protect himself with.

A couple uneventful minutes pass and Wonwoo begins to wonder if he might be overthinking the situation, but the investigator part of him knows that his hunch couldn’t have been unfounded. After a little while longer he finds it in himself to finally leave his bathroom, the cold hitting him and making goosebumps spread all over. He’s struggling to yank on track pants over his wet skin when the sound of someone knocking evenly on his front door almost surprises him into an early death via heart attack. Wonwoo glances at the clock on his wall reading half-past two in the morning, tense shoulders slumping in relief when he realizes that only Soonyoung would drop by at random hours of the night unannounced like this.

Quickly tugging on an old shirt, Wonwoo jogs over to the door, but doubt keeps him from doing anything stupid, like calling out to ask who it is like he usually does. He leans in close and looks through the peephole for the first time in his life, and someone who is decidedly _not Soonyoung_ is standing there. Wonwoo jumps back in alarm when he recognizes him—it’s none other than Kim Mingyu.

Although he is still anxious, Wonwoo debates what he should do right then, apprehensively wringing his hands as he tries to come up with some sort of plan, even if he’s not sure for what. If Mingyu _really_ wanted to get in, he could very easily just break down the door and force his way inside, but he chose to knock like a normal person, not that Wonwoo is particularly interested in having a friendly conversation with him after everything that has taken place.

“Are you afraid?” Mingyu suddenly questions, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear through the door and startling him; it’s clear that he’s known that Wonwoo was floundering around in front of the door for a good few minutes now, which is both embarrassing and scary. “Shit, I’m sorry, that probably didn’t help. I haven’t talked to normal humans in a long time. You, uh, don’t have to open the door. I just need to tell you some things. For your safety.”

Chewing on his lip again, Wonwoo finally nods after a couple long minutes, even if Mingyu can’t see him. “Okay,” he mumbles back, turning around and leaning against the door.

“Firstly, I just want to apologize,” Mingyu professes without hesitation, and there is a dull thump on the other side of the wood, the slight creak of shifting weight making Wonwoo realize that the vampire is pressing his head against the door. “I thought you were a… I thought you were one of us. This whole time. I really feel like a fool.” He sighs heavily then, a sound that seems strange and breathless, even to Wonwoo’s weak ears. “I don’t know how to tell you this any other way than honestly, but, Jaewoo is stalking you. I can smell him so strongly from you, from your apartment. He’s been here a lot. That’s how I got here. Earlier tonight, I caught onto his trace as I was leaving my home, so I thought it was you and followed behind. But, the second I saw you collapsed on the ground… I figured it out. It wasn’t you I thought I smelled, but him.”

Wonwoo’s heart picks up in alarm, looking around his empty apartment and feeling suddenly more vulnerable now that Mingyu has confirmed the one thing he was really afraid of since returning. He doesn’t know what to do or say, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He hugs his knees, pressing his forehead to them as he clenches his eyes closed. “Will he kill me?” Wonwoo finally questions aloud, sounding a lot much calmer than he feels.

Mingyu doesn’t reply for a long time, which makes Wonwoo feel sick to his stomach. “Not… immediately,” he finally replies, tentative. “I don’t really know for sure. Jaewoo, he… he doesn’t work alone. He has orders from higher ups and is unpredictable at this point.”

Surprisingly, Wonwoo feels resigned to his fate, like he’s finally reached his threshold of dread and just wants to get it done and over with. He expels all the air in his lungs that he’d been holding in since Mingyu turned up at his place, shoulders falling as he drops his head back against the door instead of on his knees; the other man speaks again before Wonwoo can think of a response, which catches him off-guard.

“I… have a proposition for you,” Mingyu whispers, quieter this time, and Wonwoo turns his head a little as he strains to listen. “But you’ll hate it, so I don’t know if I should even bother mentioning it.”

“Will I hate it more than knowing I could die at any given moment under the hands of a crazy murderer vampire, and no one will ever know about it?” Wonwoo scoffs back, feeling a bizarre sense of enjoyment in Mingyu’s soft chuckle at his dry humor.

“Touché,” the vampire replies, and Wonwoo can vividly picture the smirk tugging on Mingyu’s rosy lips right now, his warm golden eyes glittering in amusement at him. Even with his dauntingly sharp canines and devastating presence, Mingyu remains gorgeous in his memory, like he always is every time they meet unexpectedly.

“So what is your brilliant idea?” Wonwoo ultimately asks, interest getting the best of him as usual. He feels less anxious around Mingyu despite knowing the truth, although it’s still scary; then his memory flickers back to Seungcheol, and his heart sinks. Under his breath, he adds, “Or are you here to fulfill orders and kill me first instead?”

The weight on the other side of the door is suddenly gone, signaling to Wonwoo that Mingyu has stepped back. “No, never!” Mingyu exclaims, clearly having heard Wonwoo’s words despite how quietly he’d said them, and the vampire sounds almost sad—not that Wonwoo can expressly see for sure. Curiosity has him standing up as well, debating whether he should look through the peephole again and see what kind of face Mingyu is making right now. “I hate needless killing more than anything. Why else do you think I told you to run away earlier?”

Wonwoo chews on his lip as he continues to debate the truth in the other man’s words, speaking up again after another minute or so when he decides to believe him, even if it may come back and bite him in the ass one day. Literally. “Then what?”

Again, Mingyu takes a long time to respond, so long in fact that Wonwoo’s curiosity beats out his knee-jerk flight response, and he leans into the door again to gaze through the peephole. Mingyu is standing there, looking directly back at Wonwoo through it, and the detective is so surprised that it’s like all the breath’s been stolen from his lungs. He can’t look away though, stare lingering longer than he should’ve let it, until Mingyu finally answers:

“Let me protect you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please imagine lee jaewoo to look like the actor, lee jongsuk. i kinda had him in mind when i made up the character. and please comment to let me know your thoughts and predictions! they motivate me to write more~


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